I have just received the news that The Notebooks' oldest friend, and one of my best, Timothy Dyer, known here as Frere Loup, is dead. He died on February 3. He wrote me on the 2nd and said in part: "I have lived this life as fully as I could from beginning to end, even during the last 20 years of 'go nowhere, do nothing, spend nothing', just to survive, even when I was little more than just a ghost haunting my little one bedroom." And he wrote: "Constant fear. Constant threat. Over. I will have my thick leather hat, my levi/serape jacket from the Triumph 650 Bonneville and a year on the road in '73; my leather jacket from the Honda Gold Wing back in '91, my Tony Lama motorcycle boots, and my silk jacket--for my witnesses. I'll bathe and anoint my ankles, wrists, neck, and forehead with oils (I still have a few). I will burn a little sage, I will read out loud the Short Version of Sefer Yetzirah (from Aryeh Kaplan's transl. of the same name) which I have loved for many years and used to creative pieces--and I will make an end."

For those of you who knew Tim here, please leave a note or contact me directly. I have not kept up with the Notebooks for a few reasons, one of which will become obvious in the near future. Haloscan has switched owner. It still works. But in the switch I've lost all of your emails, and I would like those of you, the regulars, who still might check in here to send me a note.